


The Creak of Your Bed at Three in the Morning is What Put the Pieces Together

by CoffeesForFuckers



Series: Gay Boys Doing Some Gay Shit [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Peterick - Fandom
Genre: Cute, FOB, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Gay, M/M, Members of Fall Out Boy, Peterick, figuring out hes in lovw, patty is a smol bean, pete can't get patty out of his head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 18:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10792182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeesForFuckers/pseuds/CoffeesForFuckers
Summary: The way Patrick moves his hips, tilts his head, does his head, sounds, looks and everything about him makes Pete feel some kind of way.The creak of Patrick's bed is the only thing that makes it click in Pete's head what that feeling truly is.





	The Creak of Your Bed at Three in the Morning is What Put the Pieces Together

The way his hips swayed against that guitar, and his head was tipped back ever so slightly as the microphone stand was way too high for his short legs to allow him to reach. The way that made me feel? I didn’t know, in all the years I’d known him, I’d never been able to figure out this weird feeling.

My fingers run up and down the neck of my bass in tune with the song but my mind has checked out, mostly paying attention to the short singer closeby, he jumps back from the mic, swinging his guitar onto his hand as he did this, landing and strumming into the bridge hard. 

He bounds over to me, doing the ‘guitar thing’ with me, the crowd is screaming, I feel like screaming with them, every time we do this I want to. Before I can react he’s already bouncing across the stage to Joe.

He’s back to the mic again, belting out the words to the chorus, the song is coming to a close, just like the show. He backs away from the mic again as the song starts to finish, he comes to me yet again, doing the guitar thing but leaning closer to me than before.

“Pete, are you okay?” He shouts into my ear. I nod just as the music cuts out and I drop my hands from the bass.

He steps back up to his mic, “Boy, this has been one hell of a show! Probably the best one of the tour!” The crowd cheers, “That was our last song of the night.” Everyone whines, “I know! It sucks so much, but we definitely played way longer than we were supposed to! Thank you all so much for coming out tonight! Drive safe and keep coming back for more!” He shouts and everybody screams while we run off stage.

Were not even backstage for five minutes and Patrick is all over me about what was up with tonight's performance and why I was so out of it the whole time. 

“What the hell was with you? You were like, not there the whole time!” Patrick bothers,    
“You were just staring off into space!” He continues to bitch as he follows me into the dressing room. The whole band usually just shared one, not really caring if we were all naked in front of one another, I mean we rarely wore clothes on the tour bus anyway.

I mostly just try to ignore his bothersome nagging from behind me but as you must know, Patrick Stump is not someone you can just ignore.

“Peter Wentz, are you even listening to me?” Patrick acts like my mother, “I’m asking you questions, you have to answer me!” 

“Listen, I don’t have an answer for you either, I’m just overtired.” I try to dismiss.

“Don’t you pull that shit on me, Peter.” He shoves his index finger in between my shoulderblades in my back.

“What shit, Patrick?” I groan.

“I know you're lying!” He sounds genuinely angry by now.

“I’m not lying!” I defend.

“Yes you are, Pete! I know you and there's something bothering you.” Patrick continues to push on and on.

“I don’t even know what it is myself and you want me to explain what’s wrong to somebody else? You must be fucking crazy!” I finally whip around to face him, watching his anger fall to guilt in his eyes.

“I’m sorry. You know I get worried.” He tries.

“Just because I tried to off myself once doesn’t mean I will again, damnit.” I can’t help but snap and his eyes go wide.

“No, that’s not what I-... Pete, just… I didn’t mean it that way… I just really care about all of you guys and I don’t like to see you struggling alone.” Patrick’s blue eyes tip down, looking to the floor instead of up at me. 

“‘Trick… Are you alright?” I reach out and touch his arm, pulling away quickly.

“Yeah, I just want to help you feel better if I could. I just don’t want to see you work yourself up over it.” 

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” 

***

I was awake at three that morning, my mind wouldn’t stop playing over the talk I had with Patrick earlier and the concert and the years I’d known him. Just remembering things that shouldn’t even be remembered, things that were never and probably  _ will  _ never be important. I remember everything that went through my mind the first time I saw him, the first time we met, the first time I even heard his name. I didn’t get it, why had I just randomly started going through the past and remembering all the little things, not really longing on the ‘bigger’ things?

I wish I could tell you, I wish I could tell  _ myself  _ in all honesty.

I hear Patrick’s bunk creak above me as he rolls over, I suck in a shaky breath. 

That’s when it all pieced together.

I am madly in love with Patrick Stump.

Just as the idea flows into my head, my eyes close and I’m asleep without hesitation.

***

When I wake up, it’s almost four, Andy is shaking me, “Pete. Hey, wake up already! You slept longer than fucking  _ Patrick _ ! We have to go!” He’s shouting and everybody is waiting around. I try and roll away from his grip but he’s grabbed me and pulled me onto the floor.

“Pete, are you feeling alright?” Patrick’s voice rings out.

“We thought you were dead.” Joe chimes in.

I rub at my eyes, trying to wake myself up, “I’m fine Patrick, I told you yesterday that I was really tired. Plus I-” That’s when the night before rushes back to my mind, I clear my throat, “Um, I couldn’t sleep.” I mutter, stumbling off the floor.

I yawn and stretch, hurrying to get changed as my mind rushes with the thought of what this feeling was. I finally knew and I wish I didn’t. I liked the feeling being a mystery to everybody, including myself.

I let out a huff as I enter the bathroom. I look into the mirror at myself much longer than I wanted to, the water running in the sink. I run my hands under it and it’s freezing. I splash the water onto my face, waking myself up more. I try and shake away the feeling, it was so much stronger than it had ever been in all the years I’d known him. Now that I knew what this horrendous feeling actually was, it was so prominent that it was scary.

There's a knock on the bathroom door, “Pete, are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’ve been in there a while.” Patrick’s soft voice speaks and I feel my stomach knot at the sound.

“I… I’m fine ‘Trick, just trying to wake myself up and fix my hair.” I lie.

“Are you sure?” I hear him ask again.

“Yes, I’m fine.” I repeat. I’m really not, I feel like I could be sick.

I finish getting washed up and go out into the bus to get dressed, I feel like all eyes are on me (especially Patrick’s) as I change. I feel so self-conscious, I’d never felt like that before, I mean I posted pictures of my fucking dick online! How could I be self-conscious if I did something like that?

***

I was so tired still when we were rehearsing, I’d barely gotten any of sleep since that night that I realized my feelings for my best friend, or as I liked to call it, ‘The Night of The Creaking Bed’ because I’m lame like that.

Anyway, yeah, it’s probably been like, two or three months since I got a full eight hours of sleep in one night. It was almost impossible to get Patrick’s swaying hips and sparkling eyes out of my thoughts and that made it almost impossible to sleep when all of it persisted on playing like a full on movie.

I’m seated on the couch on my phone and Patrick is warming up his voice while Joe was strumming his guitar and Andy was eating something. His hips sway even when he’s just practicing, he’s like a god.

I pull up my notes as inspiration strikes me.

_ He wants to dance like Uma Thurman, and I can’t get you out of my head. _

It was almost nothing but it was the best I had at the time.

We were called on stage moments later.

***

I was laid on the tour bus, scrolling through twitter and retweeting some fans, replying to stuff from yesterday's concert. Patrick comes storming in, Andy and Joe had gone off to eat and Patrick  _ was _ out greeting some fans while I chilled out alone, but now he was standing in the doorway with my jacket in hand.

“Get up, I rented a car. We’re going on an adventure.” He says, it was weird of him to just spring this on me, he never did that, he always planned things first if he could, I was the reckless one.

“What?” I sit up and look at him.

“You heard me.”

And that’s how Patrick Stump dragged me out on this dreaded adventure when all I wanted to was sleep while he wasn’t on my mind. Welp, looks like he’s back in my head as always.

***

Patrick was driving, nowhere in particular, just driving, seeing whatever there was to see as we drove. He looked so beautiful in this light, he always was in my opinion but in this light there was just something about him that made my heart pound (And my jeans get a bit too tight).  

“Are we going anywhere?” I ask.

“What?” Patrick glances over at me, this is the first time we’d said anything in the twenty-ish minutes we’d been in the car.

“Like are we just going to silently drive around all night or what?” I say.

“I don’t know.” Patrick speaks softly, “Do you  _ want _ to stop anywhere?”

“Doesn’t matter to me.” I shrug, “You’re just quiet, usually you sing the whole time.” I question him, “Are  _ you _ okay, Patrick?”

He nods and yawns, “My throat hurts.” He says, “But I’m fine other than that.” His voice is a bit deeper and slightly scratchier than usual. I nod back and it falls back into silence. 

After a few minutes, Patrick turns the radio on and starts mouthing the lyrics to some random song. He reaches up and scratches the side of his neck, almost as if he could feel my gaze on him. He’s drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, always so fidgety that one.

He yawns again, staring at the road through his clunky, signature, black-rimmed glasses. I catch his yawn and also yawn myself. Patrick pulls into the empty parking-lot of a twenty-four-hour convenience store, it looked shitty but they sold pizza and I was starving. We both get out of the car and Patrick immediately goes and grabs a bag of throat-drops and lollies and I grab an energy drink and a pizza to share with him. (I also may, or may-not-have stolen some gum and a candy bar).

We’re back in the car in only a few minutes, me with my pizza (plain because Patrick is picky) and him with his medicine and a bottle of water that I didn’t notice he’d grabbed.

“I saw you stealing shit, Pete. You know that you promised to stop doing that.” Patrick always knows and always has, which sucks major balls.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” I sigh, “Have some pizza and stop straining your voice.” He rolls his eyes, driving around to the back of the store and taking a piece from the box.

We eat in silence, other than the radio, of course. The dj’s were rambling on and on about something, nobody ever cared about what they had to say so I’m not sure why they even existed, especially now with CDs and AUX cords.

We polish off the pizza in record time, Patrick is giggling about something one of the dj’s said that I hadn’t cared enough to listen to. He’s so cute, such a ray of sunshine in a bleak world.

“I’m gonna go toss this box into the garbage bin over there.” I say, pointing at the dumpster.

“Okay.” Patrick continues to titter to himself. I get out of the car, thank god. It was like torture in there, he was too precious. I pace around the front of the bin for a while, just hoping it was too dark for Patrick to see me so he wouldn’t ask a bunch of questions once I got back into the rental car.

I slide back into the passenger seat of the car, Patrick turns to look over at me, the blue lights glowing on the inside of the car flushed his pale skin and made his vibrant eyes almost glow. He was so perfect, I really was in love with him.

He gives me a tiny half-assed smile and turns to look forward again, his hands hang loosely on the bottom of the steering wheel. He looks really tired, like he'd rarely been sleeping, almost like me.

“You look dead, do you want me to drive?” I ask, Patrick shifts in his seat a bit, not looking over at me.

“No, it's all good.” He glances up at me from his slumped down position, trying to give me a reassuring smile.

“Have you even been sleeping?” I now sound like him.

“Yeah, I just was woken up late last night and couldn't get back to sleep.” He mumbles, more to himself than anything.

“Let me drive, you can get some sleep.” He shakes his head, looking up at me with big, blue, very overtired eyes.

“I want to drive.” He frowns.

“You can drive another time, ‘Trick.” I can tell that's not all that's bothering him.

“No.” He mumbles like a child.

“Patrick, what's wrong?” I say finally.

“Nothing.” He gives me a cautious look, “Why do you ask?”

“Cut the shit, I can see right through you.” He goes pale (which is surprising for how pale he already is), looking at me with nervous eyes, “There's something wrong, Patrick, I can tell.”

“What-... What do you mean?” He won't look at me.

“Patrick.” I try to tilt his head to look at me but he refuses. I sigh, he’s impossible. I lean over the center console, so my face is overly close to his, just so he’ll look at me, “Look at me.” I insist when he turns away.

“No, Pete.” He grumbles.

“You do this to me, Patrick.” I fire back.

“That’s different, your struggles are easy for me to help you with, mine are more complicated than that.” He tries to push me back.

“You are too stubborn for your own good.” I huff, “I will literally get into your lap if you don’t look at me this instant.” I really do sound like a parent, kind of…

“Fuck off.” He snaps under his breath.

“Just look at me!” I demand and he finally relents, looking into my eyes, I feel my breath hitch in my throat, he’s so pretty.

“Happy now.” He mumbles, defeated.

“No, but it’s a start.” I drop back into my seat. It falls silent for a while, both of us calming down from the little outburst.

Patrick sighs, “Can you tell me what’s wrong now?” I ask him, “Please? I want to help.”

“You can’t help me, Pete.” He evades my steady gaze.

“That’s not what I asked. I want to be able to just be there for you if you’d stop being so damn stubborn.” I roll my eyes.

He mumbles something under his breath that I can’t make out, “Huh?” I lean in more and he continues to talk under his breath, (I want to kiss him so fucking bad), “‘Trick… I can’t hear you.” I say and yet again he speaks too soft for me to hear.

This time I lean over him like I had before, “You need to speak up.” My voice is just as soft as his had been. He stares at me for long time and says nothing, I raise my eyebrows as wait for an answer.

Patrick’s eyes meet mine for a moment, the next part happened so fast it left me with my head spinning.

Patrick kissed  _ me _ . 

His arms were wrapped around me, his hand pressed to the nape of my neck and very back of my head. He moved his lips on mine, they were so soft, so smooth, I never expected him to be so soft or to taste so sweet. I struggled to keep my balance, trying to move without breaking the kiss. Patrick moves in more towards me, making it easier for me as I leaned over the center console.

He leans into me more, he’s so close but I still wanted him closer. I wrap my arms around Patrick, grabbing him by the thighs, I lose my balance and fall back, slamming into the car door and Patrick falls on top of me, fumbling into my lap and pushing me against the door even more. It hurt but I could take it, all I’d pretty much ever wanted was this touch, this moment. 

I feel his hands shaking, I’m pushing hard against his lips. I grab his free hand and hold it to calm him down but he just starts trembling harder, though he pushes more against me either way. I try to deepen the kiss, running my tongue against his bottom lip but he seems to not get the hint. I grab his ass and he gasps, I take this opportunity to slide my tongue into his mouth, he tastes so good, sweeter than he looks.

He moans into my mouth and I swear all the blood in my body rushes to my crotch. I feel Patrick smiling slightly as he feels it and my face grows violently red as all the blood now hurries to my cheeks instead.

Patrick pulls away and I suddenly see regret wash over his face as he goes red, “I-... I’m sorry… I’m just gonna…” He then falls silent as he stumbles back into the driver's seat. Before I even get to reply, Patrick has the radio blaring and he’s speeding out of the parking lot.

***

Patrick hadn’t so much as even looked at me since that night in the car. I’d tried to talk to him, do  _ anything _ , but he just ignores me, dismissing any attempt at contact. Even the fans had noticed as the days had turned into weeks of no contact, especially during concerts. 

The show had just ended and I had put my bass away, getting ready to head back to the tour bus as everybody else already had. 

I’m making my way down the hall to the exit at the back of the stadium when I notice Patrick walking, kind of hurriedly in my direction, I just assume he forgot something and pretend to not even see him. I’m suddenly slammed into the wall forcefully and I’m being kissed way harder than last time.

He’s pushing against me, his tongue in my mouth, his head is tipped up to reach my lips. But it ends just as soon as it had started and he’s sprinting back down the hall.

Always so confusing.

***

It’s another few weeks with no communication. Patrick is driving me nuts with this shit, he won’t talk to me or look at me but he’ll just come make-out with me randomly, that had happened at least twelve times in the past two months. 

For once I was  _ actually _ angry with him.

Anyway, all the guys were out at this party thing we were invited to with some other bands and such. I wasn’t in the mood to go, I just wanted to chill by myself.

I hear the bus door clank closed but ignore it, scrolling through my notifications on my phone. Patrick steps into the room with me.

“Hey…” He says, I glance over at him and force myself not to reply, going back to my phone. 

He sways over to me, climbing onto me, straddling my hips, he knocks my phone from my hand in attempt to get my attention. Patrick kisses me forcefully and it takes every ounce of power in my body to push him away as I really wanted to kiss him back. I hold his arms tight within my hands.

“Patrick, this has to stop.” I look up at him and he looks like he’s about to cry.

“I’m sorry, Pete.” He whimpers, “I just… I’ve wanted to do that for so long but um… It was supposed to be a one-time thing between us, just to get it out of my system but… Like… Um, when I was kissing you I realized that I couldn’t just make it a one-time thing because I… I really liked it so… I-... I tried to just stay away but then it would just build up in me and I’d have to kiss you and just like… Touch you, like in anyway I possibly could like as soon as possible. It kind of feels like doing drugs , I-I just… I crave you.” He stammers out, trembling as he collapses onto my chest, “You’re the only drug I can’t buy.” I’d never seen Patrick fall apart like this before, except once when someone said some pretty horrible stuff to him at a meet and greet like a decade ago.

“I-... Patrick... “ I don’t know what to even say, “How long have you felt this way?”

“Like, forever.” He frowns, pushing his face into my chest.

“Well, the creak of your bed at three in the morning is what put the pieces together for me.” Patrick’s head whips up to look me in the eyes.

“What?” He chokes.

“The day you kept asking me what was wrong and I said I didn’t know.” I remind, “That night I was thinking, about you, me… Us… I couldn’t figure it out and you rolled over, your bed creaked and suddenly I realized I was madly in love with my best friend.” I ramble but Patrick listens to every word, holding onto each syllable as if this would be what saved his life.

“You wanted me to kiss you?” He asks.

“Yes, Patrick. I don’t have the ‘ _ quick fuck’ _ feeling about you either, I have a ‘ _ forever’ _ kind of feeling about you.” Patrick lights up in a way that I’d never seen him before.

“M-Me too.” He stammers and kisses me, this time with passion and not hard, lustful force. I like this more than those steamy, hard, horney kisses, I love him so much, him and his soft lips.

Thanks our lord and savior Brendon Urie for our squeaky bunks.


End file.
